


Not Quite a Romcom

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7521625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If this were a romantic comedy, Joly thinks, things would have gone a little differently. But real life has its own charm, as flawed and imperfect as it was. And so, this is the story of how Joly met the three most important people in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite a Romcom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Renjy (Mauness)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauness/gifts).



> As soon as I read this prompt, I knew I'd have to do it. The story's progression is based loosely off a group of friends of mine, who know very well who they are, because their collective plot works far too well for this group of people. The events, however, belong to the characters themselves.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :)

If this were a romantic comedy, Joly thinks, things would have gone a little differently.

He's actually had this talk several times before, discussing details over breakfast, arguing over the best progression over video games and beer. Maybe he and Bossuet would have known each other in high school, losing contact during the two years between graduations, and both being stunned at how hot the other was. Maybe Musichetta was meant to be the the meddling matchmaker who ends up falling for both boys, while her best friend Grantaire cheered them on. Maybe all of them should have met on the first day of the same class, admired each other from afar, and not built up the courage to speak until grouped for a major assignment.

No matter how the plotline went, there would be hardship, drama, tears, and laughter.

("Also lipsynching," Grantaire added. "You have to have a scene with everyone lipsynching into various household objects. It's a must for a good romantic comedy.")

Still, sometimes the truth was better than fiction. There was still romance and sorrow, friendship and a hint of suspense. There even was a bit of lipsynching, if not everyone doing it into the mirror simultaneously.

No, Joly thought. It wasn't at all a perfect romantic comedy, but he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

* * *

It all started spring break of his senior year of high school, on an overnight visit to Corinthe University and Technical Institute. It was one of his top two choices on where to go; the program a little less prestigious than U of MsM, but with a well-reported awesome student experience and well-rounded course options. Both had been courting him, and he’d arranged with his parents to visit both over the week. Corinthe’s dates had fallen first, and he was already wearing his CUTI t-shirt when he entered the assigned reception room.

If this were a romcom, Bossuet would have been waiting for him there; they’d have met eyes, found each other paired, and been wrapped in romance immediately.

Heck, if it were a teen comedy, it would have been Combeferre perfectly fitting the role of Guide. As it turns out, Ferre was there, helping mentors and mentees meet and arranging the weekend food vouchers. But Joly didn’t know that, or that his wonderfully nerdy friend even existed at this point.

There to meet him, with a lopsided smile on his place was, in retrospect, one of the two best worst choices he could think of: Grantaire.

(Grantaire had scoffed at being only  _ tied _ as the best worst choice the first time he retold the story. He had to agree, however, when Joly suggested imagining Bahorel being put in charge of a prospective student.)

The first day was eclectic, their time spent increasingly less on official events and more on Grantaire’s own version of what to see, do, and know around campus as the day continued. Joly had loved R’s informality, the latter insisting on his nickname once all parents were out of sight. He loved the feel of the campus, the out of the way places that R was showing him for everything from the best place to get stuffed for $5 at 3am to study places with amazing views and surprisingly good wifi. (By the first day of school, he was pretty sure he remembered more of R’s advice than he did anything said in the various lecture halls explaining the various faculties, clubs, and amenities available on-campus.)

The real highlight of the day, however, came as the evening wore on. It was his first night eating university cafeteria food (surprisingly good and with a decent variety; much better than high school at any rate). It was his first night wandering the quad, where he’d have countless conversations and traipses over the next four years. And, it was his first night sleeping in a university dorm.

The room was a double, Grantaire explained, but the other bed was taken too; his roommate was supposed to have gone away for the week, but plans had changed at the last minute. Luckily they’d managed to secure an air mattress for Joly on the floor.

He doesn't actually remember what caught his eye first: the mural of cat photos, motivational images, and doodles definitely ranks high, as does the bookshelf mixing Dr. Who with Engineering manuals, and Ace Attorney guidebooks with Law texts. It's the lazy smile on a very handsome bald head that stuck with him, though. ( _ Alopecia Universalis _ . Joly would teach him the clinical name for the condition causing his hairlessness a few short years later.)

And that, of course, is how he really met Bossuet.

The three of them spent the night being nerds, sneaking a few drinks, sharing far too many puns, and sleeping far too little. He's not sure if it's the instant camaraderie, the lack of "proper" adult supervision, or the alcohol-assisted merriment, but it would easily rank as one of the best nights of his life.

He never went to the MsM open house. By the time he left the next day, his decision was already made.

* * *

Everyone has to live on-campus in their first year. It's supposed to build a sense of responsibility, and belonging. It's also probably for convenience; the 100 courses are most likely scheduled for first thing in the morning or last thing at night, after all.

His roommate was a rather eccentric English/Theatre double-major who went by Jehan. They got along surprisingly well, both enjoying deep discussions over minutia and decorating with glitter and Christmas lights. Actual tastes varied dramatically, but the quarterly letters still sent almost a decade later spoke of the friendship that sparked between them.

(There were two camps on roommates in the romcom debate: One side argued that Bossuet should've been the roommate, their love folding together in an adorably awkward fashion around a shared space and notes being thrown between beds. The other side advocates that eccentric roommates are the  _ best _ , and bringing together the lovingly "kooky" character and the roommate brings a fun twist on the genre. All members have argued for both sides at one point or another; by now Joly's pretty sure everyone's just playing devil's advocate.)

That's not to say that he had no contact with Bossuet; the two and Grantaire had been in constant contact over the summer, already planning for the fall. They'd even managed to snag some general courses together despite the other two going into their third year. (Bossuet assured him that it was all part of a  _ general education _ , and Grantaire pointed out that they were ⅔ of the degree-hopping class, along with Bahorel, who also ended up in their second semester psych class.)

Of course, there's also nothing to say that students must  _ leave _ campus after the first year. If anything, the fact that Bossuet and Grantaire were still electing to share a room was the strange part, with most students opting to go for a private bedroom as soon as viable.

Joly's not entirely sure if he spent more time in his own dorm room or in theirs, if he's really honest. Philosophical debates and pseudo-psychedelic experiences with Jehan were good after all, but so were late night Smash Brothers tournaments and group-playing RPGs until 3am when everyone was tired enough to just crash on whatever bit of soft surface was available. Joly's fairly sure he spent as much time on both of their beds and the old couch they'd managed to squeeze in.

He certainly spent more time with them; more than once he was asked where the other two were when some combination of classes, project work, and appointments had forced him to eat alone.

It really was remarkable how little that sense of camaraderie and inseparability would change over time.

* * *

Most students graduate in four years. It was a standard deviance to go for five. And yet, it seemed Grantaire and Bossuet would need at least a sixth in order to graduate with any actual degree.

The good news was it meant signing a two-year lease on their two-bedroom townhouse that much easier. The stability for the final two years of undergrad would nice, Joly thought. The discount they got for signing longer than a one-year term was gold-flecked awesome-flavoured icing on the cake.

It took approximately zero time to decide that Joly and Bossuet would be the ones sharing a room. They were already quite tactile and ridiculously close -- there was actually some amusement in following Grantaire's repeated advice to "get a room already!" as he seemed to tell them far too often.

They weren't calling themselves a couple just yet. The idea hadn't even really crossed their minds. They were just overly tactile, and overly affectionate, and definitely pan. (There were ongoing dramatic statements about making up one's mind, which usually ended in them pointing out that they agreed on the ultimate combination of pizza toppings, or referencing a similar agreement on a trivial matter that had recently been reached.)

Usually about here in the story, if Joly was telling it, an argument would break out over when they actually became a couple, and when, ideally, they should have become a couple. The latter answer was easy: within minutes of meeting at orientation, whether that had gone the romcom way or just according to how things were. The former was trickier. They'd started being tactile gradually, in equal amounts with each other and with Grantaire at first, though they gravitated slowly towards each other over time. No, it would take the final puzzle piece for their relationship to solidify, so long as Joly was concerned.

* * *

She was a transfer student, entering in the winter semester as a third year double-major in political science and arts management. In one of the few perfectly romcom moments of his life, Joly clearly remembers first seeing her, watching her walk down the halls, and thinking "she's beautiful".

In a university setting, it's equally likely to run into someone and never see them again, or to see the same person every day. It's the same group of people, but with a population of thousands with movements that will change around class schedules, club activities, and social interaction, any meeting is by chance.

Seeing her the next day eating at the roti shop was serendipitous. Finding out that she was in the same art history class as Bossuet (but not Grantaire, who'd taken it already) was fate, plain and simple. If anything, it was more amazing that it took them six weeks to figure out they were talking about the same beautiful woman, long after Joly had given up any hope of seeing her again.

And perhaps this really is the most perfect romcom part, because Joly is pretty sure they both fell for her instantly, and fell for her hard.

* * *

Her name was Musichetta.

Her name became almost sacred around the townhouse; Joly and Bossuet both took to saying it reverently while the other would smile in quiet understanding. Grantaire would often make gagging sounds in the background. Not that he had any leg to stand on -- between his undying-if-futile infatuation with Enjolras and mandatory adoration for their adopted cat Anastasia, Queen of Time and Space, he had enough foibles on his own.

Still, he didn't mind when Joly and Bossuet started spending more time with her, even coming along for many of their endeavours. Their meals of three gradually became meals of four, and their pizza toppings shifted to include a bit precisely to her liking. Their Mario Party nights finally involved an actual Mario, and their fantasy quests gained a magic user with a proficiency in heavy weaponry. And maybe that was the most enchanting thing of all: that she fit so perfectly that they hardly noticed the changes.

* * *

In a romcom, she'd be living just across the hall, or in an adjacent building, and they'd send each other notes through items slipped under doors or hung in significant ways on balconies. They'd catch glimpses of each other and come up with excuses to wait for each other on their ways in and out so they could accidentally-on-purpose bump into each other as often as possible. Bossuet often suggested the You've-Got-Mail version instead, where he'd have exchanged their email addresses without either knowing the other, but Joly vetoed that; the animosity between the offline personae in that premise didn't sound like them at all.

Plus, she didn't live that close to them. Her place that semester was on campus; a room in an all-girls dorm that had had a few slots open for mid-year entrants. She said she could understand why they'd have vacancies: there was a fair amount of cattiness and the walls were paper-thin, meaning that she could hear music and conversations from the room over, let alone what her roommate was up to at any given point in time.

Maybe that was why it was so easily to suggest she move in with them.

Maybe that's why they smuggled her in two weeks before the end of the semester so she could study in peace and they could perhaps have their fill of her. 

* * *

A romcom would probably have far more foibles about sneaking four people into a lease that stated a maximum of three.

For them, it went remarkably smoothly.

* * *

They always knew they wouldn't be staying in the townhouse longer than the original lease. Graduation was coming, after all, and they would be done. Well, everyone except for Joly, anyway, who still had four more years of med school ahead of him. (They'd cheered him on through study sessions as he prepared for his MCAT, even letting him get off the hook for chores in the weeks leading up to it, and instigating dance and cuddle breaks every two or three hours so he wouldn't lose his mind, and mandatory Anastasia breaks in accordance to the to official religious and nutritious obligations of their townhouse's undisputed queen.)

Thankfully, he'd been able to get a spot at the same university, meaning he didn't have to uproot himself all over again. Unfortunately, he was the only one with that absolute certainty of place, and the only one who needed to still be there.

He knows how the romcom version of this would have gone. 

He'd get an apartment, some small loft that he could cover with medical charts and a few lonely pictures and posters that he could sigh at and remember the best days of his life that now laid behind him. He'd unpack a cat toy, think of Anastasia, and weep into his pillow at night. Except, one day he'd find everyone sitting inside waiting for him, all of their things somehow magically packed into a too-small space that they'd all learn to love.

Instead, it was decided that all four of them would live in the area, would make their lives there. Musichetta found a small house available to rent within a reasonable driving distance, and they moved in not long after graduation.

Joly liked his version infinitely better.

* * *

And time went by, and they stayed together. Bossuet was there like a rock when he had med school hypochondria. Musichetta let him cry into her when patients died and there was nothing he could do. Grantaire was there when rotations messed up his sleep schedule so badly that he often needed reminders of what day it was, and was ready when he came home with drinks and weird fantasy stories no matter what the hour.

Joly was eternally grateful for each of them, and made sure to tell them so time and time again. He started buying them gifts, but that backfired; after they'd all come home to a mountain of trinkets for one another one day in the middle of September, they decided to pare it down to official observances only. (Of course, that didn't stop novelty gifts for National Broccoli Day.)

There were nights when they'd all snuggle on the couch together, blankets wrapped around them as they watched everything from Nightmare on Elm Street to Singin' in the Rain. There were days when Grantaire would kick the three of them out of the living room so he could play games, and they all knew it was because he saw they needed romantic alone time. There were hugs and kisses and millions of things, and Butters the Rescue Kitten to join Anastasia.

In a romcom, there would have been love triangles and animosity. For them, there was only love, and the question of marriage became one of who would benefit the most. (Joly and Musichetta, they were pretty sure, for the sake of any children. Bossuet said he'd marry Grantaire for the tax benefits, and Joly was fairly sure that he was only half-joking.)

In a romcom, their story would have ended in that rented house, as their lives began to fall together. But two years after graduation, there was enough put away for a home of their own, and there was something very satisfying about owning a place, about moving in, about knowing they could stay here forever.

And there they were, an odd, polyamourous trio with a queerplatonic best friend, moving into a new phase of their lives, into a new form of (how horrifying!) adulting.

It sounded like a setup for a sitcom if he'd ever heard one.


End file.
